Honourable
by Faithful Magewhisper
Summary: It had been designed to tear them apart, but in the end it had only brought them still closer togther. A story about how love can come from grievous experiences.
1. The Honour of Downton Must Be Upheld

_The usual disclaimer that the characters aren't mine. _

_I hope you enjoy reading it. This storyline bugged me to no end for days now, not allowing me to write anything else. _

_**Honourable**_

Mr Carson stood in the middle of the upstairs drawing room and desperately wished for a chair to appear behind him so he could sink into it. All the strength in his legs seemed to have vanished, leaving his knees as wobbly as jelly.

"I beg your pardon, M'Lord?"It was all he could rasp out, rather hoarsely at that.

"You have to marry Mrs Hughes, Carson, for the _honour_ of Downton. If she is to remain here, there is no other option available." Never before had Lord Grantham's voice sounded more determined and more apologetic.

Behind him Charles could hear a sob issuing from the woman he had secretly loved for longer than he could remember. "I'm sorry, Charles," she whispered brokenly and he felt as if his heart was being ripped out. He clenched his fists by his sides and swore to God that he would never cause Elsie a moment's heartache ever again. He would marry her to protect her good name and virtue … to give her his name … and to somehow right the wrong done to her.

Lady Grantham got up from her seat next to her husband and slowly walked past Carson to take a seat next to the distraught housekeeper. Her eyes were the softest shade of blue, the look she usually reserved for her three daughters. Charles had to swallow at the sincere sympathy he had seen in the Countess' eyes. Of course, he knew that Elsie was highly regarded among the staff and from the family upstairs, but to see actual proof of it …

It was like that night this whole nightmare had started. He remembered well that Lady Grantham had not left Elsie's side throughout the night, that Mrs Crawley had quietly taken care of her while Dr Clarkson had softly inquired after Elsie and given advise, and that Lady Sybil had been inconsolable until her mother had let her into the room. The family had done their level best to support her and help her. In the last weeks Elsie's view of the family had changed. She still wasn't as devoted to them 'upstairs' as she accused him to be, but she agreed that the Crawleys were all kind, good and generous people. And now this. It really was too much for him. Elsie had recovered physically, but the wounds on her soul would certainly need more time to heal … if ever they would, now that she …

Charles' eyes closed and a sigh shuddered from his lungs. He tried to rally his usual, professional composure and make his answer, start making things better. Before he had a chance to gather his wits about himself, he felt a large hand clasp his shoulder hesitantly. Opening his eyes in surprise, he came face to face with Lord Grantham. The younger man looked as sympathetic as his wife. No one, not even mother or wife, had seen the Earl that enraged as he had been during the arrest of the accused. Charles could not fault His Lordship for that; he himself had only held on by a thread of his self-control to not throttle the bastard and watch him die slowly.

"My dear fellow, I can understand your hesitation …"

And for the first time in his career he forgot one of the most important rules; he interrupted His Lordship. "I'm not hesitating, M'Lord," (thank God, he hadn't lost all respect), "but I wonder if it were possible to give Mrs Hughes and me a few moments alone to talk about this … so that it is less of a forced marriage, adding to her … trauma." It was the most delicate term he could come up with.

Lord Grantham looked taken aback and rather appalled, but more at his own actions than Charles' request. "Of course," he spluttered and moved towards the sofa. Leaning down a little he addressed Elsie in a soft voice. "My wife and I will go through into the library. We will be close by, but won't interfere unless it seems necessary …" Charles looked highly affronted by Lord Grantham's words. What did he take him for? He would sooner cut of his right arm then bring harm to Elsie! "… only to give you a feeling of safety," Lord Grantham reassured gently, casting a glance at Charles to let him know that it was not personal. Charles nodded curtly; he now appreciated His Lordship's thoughtfulness. Of course, he would never intentionally scare Elsie, but he had to admit that unintentionally he might very well frighten her … especially lately.

As the two aristocrats left the room to afford their servants some privacy, Charles felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate somewhat. Elsie's head was bowed and her hands lay knotted in her lap; she refused to look up, meet his gaze … or she felt she couldn't anymore, wasn't worth it any longer. He wasn't sure what it was. He needed something to do with himself. Right now he felt like a big, looming scary thing and he loathed that feeling. Up till recently they had always been able to talk freely about almost everything. How he longed to go back to that easy camaraderie! But he wasn't foolish enough to believe it would happen without some ground-breaking changes, some softly whispered promises and gentle touch of healing power. They had to rebuild it together. Maybe if he threw her a line …

"Would you like some tea, Mrs Hughes?" he asked her gently, not raising his voice over what was necessary for her to hear him. 'Don't scare her off,' he thought almost desperately, repeating it like a prayer over and over. 'If you mess this up, you will lose her forever.'

A barely recognizable nod of her head showed him that she had accepted his invitation. He hoped she, too, remembered late nights of relaxing in each other's company over a cup of steaming tea. Gratefully he moved to the little side table where he personally had laid out the tea service before this whole damnable conversation started. Carefully he poured her cup of tea and added just enough sugar to sweeten it a little bit before adding a drop of milk as well. For a moment he was lost in his own thoughts – insecurities, doubts – as he watched the milk lazily form clouds in the clearer, darker liquid of the tea. It was rather nice to watch. The dark but see-through tea representing his life – easy to read, predict – while the white, heavier milk danced through it – like his Elsie … lighting up his life with her ethereal, mysterious beauty. Then her quiet voice broke through his contemplations.

"I can understand your refusal, Charles," she said softly, her voice hesitant and hitching over his name, the fight gone from her soft Scottish lilt. "It must be appalling to marry me now …"

Charles turned around in complete disbelief. "The thought of marrying you was never appalling to me … the opposite, if I may be so frank. I always thought heaven would await me in your arms …" It was out before he had time to think. He closed his eyes and waited for the slap he was sure would come. She had had to endure so much from men lately and here he was adding insult to injury. Secretly he wished that she would slap him, lash out in any way she choose or needed to regain her dignity, _honour_, self-respect … but she had lost her fire somehow. Nowadays she retreated into herself and tried to become invisible. It was painful to see for everybody who knew her. Her maids worked diligently and behaved exceedingly polite and obedient. Gwen had only once, early on, broken a cup of the tea service and exclaimed loudly. Upon seeing Elsie's wide eyes of panic, she had hurried to apologize. Later Charles had overheard her tell Anna that it had been scarier than to have the famous Scottish Dragon breathe fire at you for breaking the expensive property of the family. It was proof how much her maids loved and respected her despite her strictness. They swarmed around her like a hive of bees. Charles had distinctly heard Miss O'Brien snarl at Thomas to be more considerate towards Mrs Hughes and not be such a prick. And Anna had helped dear William with a special tea tray for Mrs Hughes with her favourite Scottish Shortbread. But it was not the same without her quick temper, easy smile, and kind words. All of downstairs seemed to have lost their mother …

"You can't mean that," Elsie's voice sounded as disbelieving as his had before.

Charles dared to cautiously open his eyes again. Elsie still hadn't gotten up from the sofa. Her own eyes were still fixed on her hands in her lap, but now a frown creased her forehead. Hesitantly Charles moved closer to her, always ready to back up again should she show signs of being uncomfortable. She seemed so small and vulnerable.

"Elsie, please believe me," he pleaded softly, then added in jest to lighten the mood, "I never could lie to you."

It seemed to work for there was a tiny answering smile appearing on her lips. "True enough," she conceded softly. Then she fell silent again. After a few moments of the most comfortable silence they had shared of late, she spoke again, "But this is wholly different, Charles. We are talking about … well, about the rest of our lives. Please, don't ruin your golden years out of a sense of obligation due to our friendship or out of pity. I couldn't bear the thought." Finally she looked up at him and there was such a sad expression in her eyes that Charles threw caution to the winds and took the plunge.

Moving to stand in front of her, his large hands enclosed hers and slowly drew her up to stand as well. "Elsie Hughes, I don't remember a time when I haven't been in love with you or waited patiently to appear in my life. My only regret is that I haven't asked you to marry me years ago. Before you say anything, hear me out. I love you, Elsie. I want to marry you, give you my name … protect you … take care of you …"

"Despite …?" Elsie interrupted meekly.

Charles placed his finger gently over her lips, silencing her mid-sentence. "Yes, despite. This is what I can offer you: my name and my _honour._ I would never pressure you into anything, never force you to do anything you weren't comfortable with. This is your decision and I will accept it. All I want is to take care of you and your child … if you will allow me."

And with that Charles placed one of his large hands gently on her abdomen, over the tiny swelling hidden under her corset. Elsie's eyes filled with tears, but for the first time in weeks those weren't tears of pain and sorrow. They were tears of relief. She was still worthy of his love, he had said so, and he had finally admitted to loving her despite this horrible nightmare. It had been designed to tear them apart, but in the end it had brought them still closer together. Her smaller hand covered his and she looked up into his eyes, locking her gaze with his.

"Yes … be patient with me, but yes."

_Next chapters will be flashbacks and all the questions as to timeframe, what happened and so on will be answered. Please review if you were pleased._


	2. When the Past Comes Back to Haunt Us

**A./N.: I apologize for the long delay. My life has been particularly crazy this month. Updates will now come sooner, I promise. Thank you all for your kind reviews to Chapter 1. As promised here are some answers. Enjoy and please leave a review, they really do make my day.  
**

_When the Past Comes Back to Haunt Us_

Charles couldn't for the life of him remember a more perfect moment in his life … not his promotion to butler and certainly nothing he had experienced on stage. In his arms lay Elsie Hughes, after he had confessed his love for her and she accepted his hand in marriage. He knew that they had a rocky road before them, but he was sure they could master it together – as they had countless situations before. Of course it was different this time; they were facing difficulties of a personal matter – for the first time in their acquaintance – and not some professional crisis. And yet the feeling of Elsie's head resting against his chest, while her right hand still held his much larger one against her stomach, was filling him with an indescribable mixture of love, elation and positive energy. Closing his eyes in bliss, he inhaled her scent of lilies and honey. He had known from the first time he had smelled her unique scent that it would be edged into his memory and he would always associate it with her warmth and the sunny summer's day when she had first set foot into Downton, the day his heart had been stolen by a softly spoken greeting in the most charming lilting, rolling accent he had ever heard. For so many years he had dreamed of confessing his love for her, sweeping her off her feet, but he was dismayed by the circumstances under which he had finally confessed his love to her. Silently he cursed his past – the very reason she was hurt now.

oOoOoOo

_Mr Carson, esteemed butler of Downton Abbey, felt the breath forcefully leave his lungs and his hands clench into angry fists, crumpling the letter in his right hand. How dare that man ask him – of all people! – for help? Charles Grigg, after all, was the author of his own misfortune and then some. In all the time Charles had known Grigg, the man had always let others work for him and profited from their talents while not showing any of his own, except pilfering money and pulling the wool over other people's eyes. _

_Now he was in Downton and expected Charles' help or he would expose his past to his employers and colleagues, effectively making him look like the fool he was in front of the people he respected or whose respect he commanded. He would be disgraced and most likely lose the job which meant so much to him and he had worked so hard to get. _

_He hated to admit it, but he was vain enough to dismiss this notion immediately. Too much work and self-denial had gone into his job and Grigg would not ruin this for him. Charles had left behind the carnival and the dissolute lifestyle that went with it. He had to protect his self-made good name and to Hell with Grigg. The man was more trouble than he was forth._

_So he stole food from the kitchen and the store cupboard. Intentionally he took advantage of the on-going feud between Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes in regards to who had the cupboard key and the ensuing confusion. Mrs Patmore accused Mrs Hughes not to have ordered important ingredients or not in sufficient number, and Mrs Hughes saw her own fears of the cook's liberty with food realised and accused her of going behind her back whenever the cupboard was opened. Only Anna found out about the truth. She happened upon him while he was gathering the latest provisions for Grigg. He had been flustered and fearful that she would expose him, but nothing happened and he allowed himself to breathe more freely again._

_Luckily he was more successful in hiding Grigg away from any prying eyes. One of the empty cottages was the perfect hide-out for a minor criminal on the run. _

_Only one request was too ludicrous to even entertain the thought of fulfilling it. Grigg had asked for money in exchange for his silence, but every penny Charles owned had been saved frugally over years and worked hard for. Besides Charles knew Grigg enough to know that once offered the little finger he would take the whole arm. There was no guarantee that Grigg wouldn't demand more after he received the first payment. _

_Then the big escalation happened; Grigg showed up at the Abbey and told Lord Grantham about their past on the stage. He exposed Charles' shameful past to the man he respected most. Both Anna and Mr Bates were also present, but behaved most _honourably_, not judging him openly and not faltering in their loyalty to support him. Furthermore neither of them exposed his past to the rest of the downstairs staff. _

_ "You'll be sorry," hissed Grigg, pointing a finger at Charles. "Mark my words; you'll be sorry!"_

_But Charles hadn't believed him. After all, Grigg had made false promises all his life. This wasn't any different … or so Charles had thought … he had been mistaken._

_Grigg hadn't left the village on the night's train as Charles had thought, but had returned to the small un-used cottage he had been hiding in. It was hard for him to accept defeat in this situation. Up to this day Grigg had always gotten what he wanted – through flattery, bribery, or an open threat. Now Carson had not only withheld the money, but he had also bested him. His employer still respected him and even the maid seemed more sympathetic than disgusted by their story. The height of shame was that Lord Grantham had just bought Charles out of his misery with the flippant words "I think it …because it is true" and shut him up with a sum of money the Lord could easily afford and more than Grigg had asked of Charles._

_Yes, Charles Carson would pay for making him look like a fool. Grigg only needed to know what would hurt the high and mighty Carson the most. He had thought a personal attack on his good name and reputation, but Lord Grantham had thwarted that attempt. Nevertheless Charles would have his comeuppance!_

_Grigg didn't have long to wait. The following Sunday Grigg observed the procession of Downton's staff into the village through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Charles was strutting at the front of the procession like a rooster … with a woman on his arm. In that moment Charles leant down and spoke to her, drawing a soft smile from her lips and a tender expression from her eyes. _

_It seemed that he had found what would destroy the Great Charles Carson, Butler of Downton Abbey._

oOoOoOo

Charles arm around Elsie's shoulders tightened, drawing her closer into him, and his lips softly caressed a strand of hair. He closed his eyes more tightly and damned Charles Grigg straight to hell for what he had done to this wonderful woman.

"Charles?" Elsie's soft voice broke through his troubled thoughts. He couldn't look at her, knowing that at the heart of things he was the cause for her pain. That because of his connection with Grigg, she had to go through the worst that could happen to a woman. He turned his head away from her prying eyes, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. He felt Elsie reluctantly disentangle herself from his embrace.

"I see," she said quietly, the sadness back in her voice tenfold. "Your words were empty. You are disgusted by me …"

Charles' head whipped around and he locked his gaze with hers. "No, Elsie," he said simply, his own voice mirroring her sadness and his guilty conscience weighing him down. "If anything, you must be disgusted by me."

Elsie took a step back in surprise, staring at him disbelievingly. "What do you mean?" she asked incredulously, her voice raising an octave.

Again Charles' gaze swivelled away from hers and he scoffed the toe of his shoe against the floor. His arms dropped back to his sides and he felt strangely bereft without her in his arms, even though he had allowed himself that indulgence only very recently. His voice was quiet and broken, reflecting how he felt. "Grigg," he said, his heart breaking at the sight of her cringing away and fear seeping into her eyes, her arms hugging herself convulsively. Charles closed his eyes, but ploughed on, hating himself for hurting her again. "He hurt you because of me …"

"Oh Charles," Elsie's voice had gone soft again. "Oh, you dear man …" A tender whisper this time, accompanied by a gentle hand cupping his cheek. "Don't you dare blame yourself for what this … this man did, back when you were young or now. Do you remember what I told you on that Sunday?" she asked softly.

He nodded mutely.

"Please open your eyes, Charles," she whispered, his name flowing from her lips easily – Hadn't he been Charles to her all along? – and her voice begging him to trust her the same way she did.

Cautiously Charles peeked at her, but took strength from the reassuring, yet somewhat shy smile gracing her lips. He spoke as softly as she, even though his voice still seemed to boom. "You basically told me not to go on so." He smirked and Elsie chuckled softly, the sound of it lifting Charles' heart into the heavens.

"Well, you do have a tendency to the melodramatic," she teased lightly. "I said you were a man of integrity and _honour. _Your actions have always been the most _honourable._ In these last months you comforted me without frightening me. The only reason I withdrew from you … from everyone really … but especially from you … is that I was made so weak and you shouldn't see me weak. I was made to feel that I let you down."

"Elsie!" Charles exclaimed. "You could never!"

"And he … he made … he r- … I was made a hypocrite to the girls. How can I look them, or you, or those upstairs in the eyes?" Elsie wailed, finally letting part of her anguish out and revealing her fears to him. So she really had felt unworthy of meeting his gaze. He could reassure her on both fronts.

"Elsie, have you really listened to your girls lately?" he asked. At the shake of her head, he continued, "They still respect you and think you are a strong woman. Of course, they worry about you. I heard Lucy and Daisy say that you are a better mother to them than their own ones. Lady Sybil does everything but put on a clown's costume to make you smile again. And I … I would give everything to undo what happened to you. I feel incredibly sorry that you were hurt because of my past, but I will happily spend my future loving you and seeing you happy."

Tears glistened in Elsie's eyes as she looked up to him. "Does this mean we are worthy of each other?"


	3. Making a Good Woman Cry

**A./N.: As promised I didn't make you wait for long for the next update. I asked my Beta, before starting on this chapter, if she preferred a detailed account of the events or if I should leave what happened up to the imagination of my readers. She voted for the det****ailed version and since this story is M I complied to her wishes. Please skip the second flashback, i****f you don't want to read and know. **

**I will appreaciate all reviews to this chapter, both positive and negative, and have no problems with altering this chapter if you so wish.**

**Thank you for reading, Faithful.**

_Making a Good Woman Cry_

"Does this mean we are worthy of each other?"

Charles could easily see the insecurity in her eyes and he instinctively knew that whatever words he spoke she would still have some doubts left about his sincere feelings for her, her desirability to him, and her own worth despite this horrible event. He knew that it was time for the first touch of hopefully healing quality. Moving slowly, he came to stand in front of her once more and put one hand on her hip, gently tugging her closer to him, giving her the chance to resist. He wanted to make it abundantly clear how he felt without pressuring her. For him she was still the woman he loved and wanted to grow old with. He had just never thought he would find the courage to approach her and woo her properly. Now all that had been pushed faster ahead than he had ever intended. He still hadn't wooed her properly, but now they were already engaged to be married. Maybe if they sealed the deal, so to speak, her self-esteem would return.

"I love you, always have," he whispered as he leaned towards her, slowly closing the distance between their faces. In the split second before he closed his eyes, he saw Elsie's eyes hesitantly flutter shut. A small tremor went through her body, transported to him by the connection of his hand on her hip, but she didn't pull away from him, which gave him hope and an almost overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and responsibility. Gently, ever so gently as to not frighten her away, he lowered his lips onto hers. He had honestly intended the kiss to be chaste and really more like a peck on the lips, but he hadn't anticipated how the feeling of her lips would affect him. Almost immediately upon resting his lips on hers, Charles lost all ability to think. Tentatively his lips moved over hers, the hand on her hip drawing her just a little closer.

Elsie's arms went to his chest, but instead of pushing him away her hands grasped his lapels and clung to him, trying to remain on her feet. Her head was spinning and a strange tingling sensation was spreading throughout her body, making her light-headed. She was by no means an experienced kisser – in fact the only other man, who had ever kissed her, had been Joe Burns many years ago … until … he …

oOoOoOo

_Elsie walked home from Downton Village after running some errands for Mrs Patmore. Again the cook had made last minute changes to the menu, and it was left to her to pick up the necessary ingredients. Unfortunately it was later then she had anticipated. In fact it was getting dark already and Elsie hastened home, not liking the thought of being out so late and the sight of the towering rainclouds gathering to the east._

_Suddenly she heard a rustling noise to her left, coming directly out of the undergrowth on the side of the path. She froze, as though not moving might render her invisible. The man moved in front of her, cutting off her escape route. Elsie felt fear grip her heart, but still managed to stand tall and opened her mouth to order him out of her way. Before she had a chance to, he spoke first._

_ "Not so flirtatious now, are we?" he asked conversationally, sneering maliciously at her. Elsie didn't know that man and had no idea what he meant by that. _

_He drew back his arm and slapped her hard across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground. The blow made Elsie's eyes water and a cold shudder ran through her. The man saw that, and his smile broadened._

_ "I'll show Charlie. That should wipe that smug grin off his face," he said._

_Elsie jerked back involuntarily, trying to scramble to her feet, but was brought up short by the man's hand around her neck while his other hand yanked open her coat. Her vision went dark for a moment, then cleared and found his face mere inches from her own, his breath hot on her skin._

_He seized her chin in his hand and rubbed his face over hers, biting at her lips and rasping the stubble of his beard hard across her cheeks. Then he drew back, leaving her face wet with his saliva, pushed her flat to the ground, and climbed on top of her._

oOoOoOo

With a strangled gasp, Elsie sacked against Charles' frame. Tears were coming hot and fast, wetting her cheeks and Charles' in equal measure. Instantly she felt Charles slacken his embrace and his lips leaving hers. She whimpered – confused by her body's strange reaction to the man before her and the utter horror of what had been done to her by another. Instead of pushing away from Charles and seeking protection in separation and distance, Elsie felt the overpowering need to be close to him, protected by him as he had promised. Her whole body trembled from a combination of her feelings and her inability to put them into words. She wanted so desperately to be held, to not have to appear strong and as if she was dealing admirably with it all. A sob wrecked through her body, making her shudder against Charles as the memories rushed over her.

oOoOoOo

_Elsie could clearly feel the violence in him, pulsing through him like blood and bleeding out to her. She knew that he was stronger than her and that she couldn't escape or prevent him from going through with what he intended – knew he would hurt her if given the slightest excuse. The only thing to do was to be still and endure it – it would at least spare her more pain._

_She couldn't. She heaved under him and rolled to the side, trying to dislodge him. "Get off me!" she shouted even though she knew that no one was around. "Oh God, someone help me!" In a desperate attempt to fight back, fight him off, she brought her knee up as he pushed her skirts out of the way. It hit him – but unfortunately not where it was supposed to – in the thigh and he drew back his fist by reflex and punched her squarely in the face, bruising her cheekbone._

_Pain exploded all over Elsie's face and she cried out in agony. The pain filled her head and blinded her momentarily, shocking her into immobility. For a second the fog around her mind lifted and she became aware of what she had unleashed. 'He is going to kill you now,' she thought calmly. Then the second blow landed. It struck her jaw and jolted her head back against the hard, unyielding ground. For the second time her vision went black and her body limb under him._

_Suddenly he was kneeling astride her, punching and slapping, the blows falling heavy and remorselessly. Elsie sobbed, twisting, curling, bringing up her shoulder and trying to shield her face against the ground, and then his weight was gone._

_He was standing over her, looming and menacing. He was kicking and cursing, panting and half-sobbing as his boot thudded into Elsie's sides and back and thighs. Elsie panted in short gasps, crying out in pain, begging him to let her be. Her body jerked and quivered with the relentless blows while she prayed for a hole to appear in the earth beneath her that would swallow her. Then it stopped and she could hear the man speak through heavy panting. "Goddamn … to Hell with him … I'll show him … show you … bitch … you'll learn not to … not to make fun of me … of Charles Grigg …"_

_Then he __threw himself on her again. Once more he bunched up her skirts. Her legs free, she tried to kick him again, but she didn't have the energy to do so after the beating. He grabbed the top of her dress and tore it open, scattering buttons everywhere. One hand grabbed a fist full of her hair, which had come undone during their struggle, while the other tried to roughly fondle her breast through her corset. Elsie had her hands against his chest, trying to push him off her, but he was too heavy to budge. She felt him using his knees to force her legs apart. Her body was twisting and squirming under him as she fought to escape._

"_Don't!" she screamed. "Stop it! Please stop it!"_

_He buried his face in her neck and she felt him snaking a hand between them. His hand went to her most intimate part, rubbing her through the slit in her underwear. _

"_Noooo … please … Stop!" she screamed as he mercilessly inserted a finger up inside her. _

_His mouth dropped to her breast and he viciously chewed on her nipple, sending waves of pain through her. He was undoing his trousers, pulling out his member. She felt the fear and frustration raging through her. She knew what would happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She felt him pressing against her entrance. She dug her heels into the ground, trying to get enough leverage to throw him off. She twisted and turned, pushed against his chest, tried to move her hips away from him. Nothing worked._

"_Oh, no! Oh, please NO!" she begged as she felt him forcing her open, felt him enter her. "No! Let GO! Get … get out of me!"_

_He was forcing his way into her, driving deeper with each thrust of his hips. She hadn't been ready, hadn't been with a man ever before, and the penetration was painful. Elsie felt as if her insides were being torn open as he pounded into her, again and again and again. Tears burned her cheeks and she bit down on her lips to keep her fruitless pleas for mercy in. All she hoped for now was that it would be over soon._

oOoOoOo

Charles had immediately felt the change in Elsie. The moment he registered her apprehension he had withdrawn from her, cursing himself inwardly for pushing her too far. His heart broke upon hearing her sob and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself for frightening her.

"Elsie …oh God, Elsie … I-I am so … I apologize," he stammered out, desperately trying to make himself understood around the suffocating lump in his throat. His arms dropped away from her and he hung his head.

"No …" Elsie felt cold, alone and so utterly vulnerable without his arms around her. While he was near her, she was safe – if he left her, if she was alone again, it could happen again.

Charles misunderstood her uttered word. He withdrew even further into himself, even stepping back from her, giving her space to breathe. He couldn't fathom that Elsie might need his strength and support to keep her upright, keep her together.

"Don't … no …" Elsie's thought were a maelstrom of confusing wishes and feelings. She couldn't make herself heard, she wasn't even sure what it was she wanted exactly. Again Charles misunderstood. His face showed true remorse and even self-hatred, if she deciphered his expression correctly, and she couldn't bear to see him like that. He was her rock and she needed him, but he retreated even more from her.

"I'm terribly sorry for my lack of judgement … I will get Her Ladyship …" Charles stammered awkwardly.

"No! Please!" Elsie wailed out.

A loud crash was heard as the double door to the drawing room burst open and Lord and Lady Grantham hastened through into the room.

"Carson, what is going on?" Lord Grantham asked wildly, his eyes going to and fro between Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes.

Lady Grantham didn't wait for an answer instead she strode over to Mrs Hughes' side. Her arms immediately went around her shaking frame and she put her body between the distraught housekeeper and the shocked butler as a barrier. The tears were still coming uncontrollably, causing Elsie's vision to blur. She wanted Charles' arms back around her, having already cried on Lady Grantham's shoulder weeks ago and having instead wished for his support all this time – Mrs Patmore's question turning over and over in her mind, "Would it be different if he had been your lover before?". An inarticulate sound escaped her lips and she pushed against Lady Grantham's arms, freeing herself from the protective embrace and stepping in front of Charles. She despised herself for the quiver in her voice and how small it sounded, but she rasped out her request, "Please, Charles, hold me …" It was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but Charles heard her loud and clear. He stepped towards her, around Lady Grantham, completely forgetting her presence. "I need you … I'm afraid …"

Without any further hesitation on his part Charles wrapped both his arms around her and drew her close to his chest. Elsie's face buried in his chest, inhaling his scent, blocking out the disturbing memories and again feeling this sense of security.

She felt she had come home. At last.


End file.
